


Eye of the Needle

by Marengo227



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Psychic Abilities, Warnings are just for safety right now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 14:36:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19297753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marengo227/pseuds/Marengo227
Summary: Mozu was born with a special gift: the ability to peer into a person’s mind and understand their thoughts and feelings. It was only a matter of time until the humble village girl drew attention from much larger places.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An AU idea I had that I just could not resist writing up. Lemme know if you want to see more of this!

“You’re special, Mozu.” Few things angered Mozu quite like those three words. She had heard it her whole life from just about everybody in her village. There were different variations, of course: “You have a gift,” or “you’ll do great things,” or the dreaded “you were meant for something more.” It made her feel like she was supposed to think of her humble life as something detestable, something she needed to rise above. But she loved nothing more than that humble little life.

Sixteen years of age was when village girls were expected to start growing more interested in boys, to take up sewing or cooking, but Mozu found herself gravitating towards hunting - not because she especially enjoyed it, but because she was  _ good _ at it. It was easy to hunt prey when she knew exactly where they were going to go next.

Understanding animals was a bit trickier than understanding humans. Humans spoke clearly in their minds, and the emotion and meaning behind their words spoke just as clearly. For animals, Mozu had only those emotions to rely on.  _ Danger. Food. Run. Stay. Sound. Scent. _ Taking emotions and turning them into words like that took time, and that was precious time she couldn’t afford to waste.

Still, this understanding - Mozu liked to call it her needle, thinking that it must’ve shot with a needle’s precision, right through the tiny crack between someone’s eye and skull, going into their head and seeing what they were thinking - was her secret weapon, and she greatly appreciated it. What she didn’t appreciate was the attention that it cast on her.

It was back when Mozu was only five that her parents discovered her needle. Her mother was cooking broth, Mozu was watching curiously, and she was invited over to watch. Her mother had begun muttering the steps to herself as she went along, being her favorite method of staying focused. “Next, chopped beets, but before that…”

Mozu, being the impatient child that she was, finished her mother’s thought. “Before that, a dash of salt. For flavor!” Her mother blinked, turning to look at her. “After that, stir for three minutes, but no more, because preserving texture is important!” Mozu didn’t even realize that she was using remarkably big words; though she couldn’t actually define words like “texture”, she instinctively  _ knew _ what they meant thanks to the emotion that accompanied them. “You don’t need to worry about papa. Your broth is gonna cheer him up for sure!” Her smile was met with her mother’s confusion and shock.

Up until that moment, the needle was no stranger to Mozu than her fingers were. She had it, so she assumed everyone else had it. Learning that the case was quite the opposite was a shock to her system, but even after that she could never shake the feeling of uncomfortable normalcy towards it. She supposed she could compare it to someone looking in the mirror and seeing their face, only for someone to appear and point out all the little freckles dotting their cheeks. It was still their face, and they were used to every bit of it, but now that they were really  _ noticing _ the freckles for the first time, it was all they focused on.

Thankfully, Mozu’s parents were more thoughtful than most. They took the time to discuss the needle with each other and their daughter, explaining to her that what she had was most definitely not normal. They stressed to her that “not normal” didn’t always mean “bad,” and what she had could only be the work of the Gods above. That idea made her pretty happy; the capital-G Gods gave this to her? What could be more amazing? But her needle let her know the truth behind the words her parents were speaking.

Mozu even tried to tune it out at one point, just wanting to accept the simpler lie she was given, but

__ _ Oh Gods, what’s happened to her? _

it simply kept showing up in her head, no matter how hard she tried to tune it out. That was something she figured out soon enough; if she was actively focusing on a person, whether it was their words or actions or appearance, their thoughts would be focused on as well, whether she wanted them to or not. Her mother was more concerned, but her father

_ We must see a Diviner. If she’s been cursed, then she could be in grave danger. _

“Papa?” Mozu asked, stopping her father in the middle of a sentence. “Am I really in danger?” His eyes flickered away for a moment

_ She can hear me. She can- _

before he remembered the implications of this. “Mozu, honey, I’m just worried for you. We don’t know what this is just yet, and we need to understand before we can do anything else. Okay?” Mozu nodded. “That’s my good girl,” he said, ruffling her hair and making her giggle.

Eleven years was a long time to come to terms with something, but Mozu couldn’t say she had succeeded in that endeavor. She was older - and, she liked to think, wiser - but knowing that her needle made her different bothered her just as much as it did when she first learned that cruel fact.

Knowledge of Mozu’s power inevitably had spread through the village like wildfire, and she was soon hailed as a miracle child. Being a miracle child was the worst. The other children her age didn’t want to spend time with her, knowing she could see what they were thinking. Being children, and thus being naturally quite cruel, they often called her a witch whenever adults weren’t around to hear. She had grown used to this, thankfully.

Hunting was a good way to avoid people; at least that way, she could pretend she wanted to be alone, and that the others wouldn’t have tried to stay away from her if she had stayed in the village. It was just her and the animals, and the animals didn’t care about her needle. They ran away from every human, and that meant that in their eyes, she was nothing special. She relished this feeling.

Mozu’s current target, an elk she had been trying to bag for a few weeks to no avail, was drinking from a forest creek. It was the cleanest shot she had found since she first spotted him and nicked him at the neck. That was how she separated him from the rest. He was fast, strong, and quiet as a ghost. She even wondered if he was some sort of specter, or maybe a Yōkai. Her mother had told her of Yōkai once, explaining that they were spirits that roamed the lands of Hoshido. Some were malicious, while others were playful and even possibly helpful. Mozu’s needle told her that her mother thought that it was a bunch of hogwash, but she liked the story so much that she preferred to think that Yōkai really were real.

Though Mozu had no proof that the elk was a spirit, she had taken to referring to him as Yōkai as a playful sort of nickname. “That Yōkai,” she’d say, slinging her bow on the wall by the front door and sitting down at the dinner table, “doesn’t seem to like me. I’ll never bag the darned thing at this rate.”

“Well, honey,” her father said, “maybe he does like you, and that’s why he keeps letting you see him.”

“Letting me see him…?” Mozu hadn’t even thought that the elk had been letting her catch sight of him. Was he really just letting her get a glimpse, knowing she was present and ready to spring away when she inevitably took aim? In that case, he was quite the haughty Yōkai indeed, and that only made her want to take him down even more. It was as if a challenge was silently issued from him, daring her to hit him.

Nocking an arrow, Mozu went through her ritual of pulling back on the bowstring, holding her breath, and counting to three. Then, she let her arrow fly, piercing through the air in a way that she liked to think wasn’t far off from her own needle. Unlike her needle, however, the arrow did not hit its target. It soared just shy of the elk’s head, embedding itself in a tree behind it. It ran the second it felt the wind blow by its face, and before Mozu could even respond to missing, it was gone, vanishing in the brush.

Mozu let out the worst curse she had ever heard (well, perhaps  _ heard _ was the wrong word, she had  _ felt _ it in her mind) and stormed off, too furious to even retrieve the arrow. Her Yōkai had evaded her once again. She could just imagine him laughing at her from the shadows, goading her to try again, knowing she’d fail. Considering her hunt for the day finished, she returned to the village without the focus on stealth that she had entered the woods with.

Stepping into the village clearing, Mozu was given a clear view of the town square, complete with the harvest statue sitting in the center, the harvest orb shining atop. She loved that orb more than any other object, even her cherished bow, but she knew it wasn’t hers. It was the village’s, the symbol of their proud hunting tradition that had allowed them to thrive in relative isolation.

“Relative” was the key word, for Mozu noticed unfamiliar people standing in front of the statue and talking to her father. The second she focused on one of them, the woman’s thoughts were already flashing in her head.

_ “She’s bound to show up sometime. Can’t believe this is my assignment: looking for some supposed psychic. What a crock of shit.” _

__ They were looking for her. They were looking for  _ her _ . As if on cue, one of the strangers (a soldier, oh Gods, what were soldiers doing here) noticed her and pointed her way, shouting something she couldn’t quite make out. She wanted to run, but she found that panic had rooted her feet to the ground, turning her legs into jelly that would surely collapse if she dared move them. What was she supposed to

_ “Mozu, honey, please don’t run. They’re not here to hurt you.” _

__ Her father. His words were immediately soothing. He knew more about the situation than her, and if he was sure of her safety, then she trusted him. No doubt he chose to think it in order to avoid shouting.

Mozu’s father and the handful of soldiers slowed down when they got closer to her. They were Hoshidans, and judging by their outfits they weren’t small-time either. One of the soldiers, a scary-looking woman, looked at her

_ “This is the one? Great, this really is a wild goose chase.” _

__ Mozu let her anger get in the way of common sense. “What, you got a problem with me? Think I’m just a wild goose chase?”

_ “What the hell!? How did she-” _

__ “Read your thoughts? You’ve got three guesses, lady!” Mozu’s mousey voice didn’t exactly cast a threatening presence, but her words definitely made up for that. Her father put a hand on her shoulder, giving her a look that spoke enough for her to not even need the accompanying thoughts.

_ “This is not the time. Calm down.” _

Mozu took a deep breath, and then realized she was still holding on to her bow. Setting it on her back, she tried to reapproach the situation with a more level head. “My apologies. That was uncalled for. I hope that hasn’t cast too much of a shadow on your initial impressions of me.”

One of the other soldiers, a man with a seemingly constant grin on his face, chuckled at that. “You talk pretty fancy for a village girl. Don’t think I’ve seen that before.”

_ “Cute as a button, too. I wonder if she’s of age yet…” _

Mozu’s face flushed a gentle red, and she decided not to even acknowledge that particular thought. “I-I know a few more words than most. Can’t help picking them up.” She glanced to her father. “Perhaps you’d like to talk over a cup of tea?”

Once inside the house, Mozu insisted she be the one to brew the pot of tea, knowing it would give her more time to collect herself before the inevitable conversation with these soldiers would begin. She found that the opposite effect was achieved, letting her stew in her nervousness. Once the tea was heated up and poured into the guests’ cups, she poured some for herself, her father, and her mother, who had been filled in on the situation when they entered.

Mozu sat down, folding her hands together in her lap. “So...I…” Words refused to properly arrange themselves together, leaving her with embarrassing fragments of a sentence. Her father gently touched her arm, taking over the conversation.

“You said you wanted to see my daughter. What exactly do you want to see her for?”

The scary-faced woman chose to answer that question. “We were sent here to see if the rumors of a psychic in this town were credible. Usually, these kind of stories don’t make enough leeway to get investigated, but this particular rumor refused to die down. Our lord happened to be in the area, and after learning of this story, he sent us.” Their lord? They weren’t just regular soldiers then, they served someone important

_ “Prince Takumi.” _

Mozu swallowed her tea too fast, sending it down the wrong hole and gagging on it, coughing and sputtering. The woman seemed to get enjoyment out of that sight. “Well I’ll be damned, she’s the real deal.”

“You…” Mozu stopped, coughing again. “You did that on  _ purpose _ ! You did that to see if I’d react!”

“Just had to make sure. To be honest, even after that I’m not entirely sure if I’m buying it. It’s just too crazy to believe.”

“You’re...oh Gods, you’re royal retainers. You’re really servants of a prince.” Mozu’s words shocked her parents, as well as the other soldiers who weren’t aware of the mental exchange Mozu had just had.

“Yup. Name’s Oboro. That grinning idiot,” she motioned to the man next to her, “is Hinata.” Mozu glanced Hinata’s way,

_ “Wait, if she’s really psychic, then does that mean she heard me?” _

before giving a quick nod, making Hinata’s face go as red as a beet. “Why were you looking for me?” Mozu asked.

“Because psychics are...how do I put this…” Oboro put a finger to her chin. “One in a billion. Legend has it that they’re born in times of turmoil to assist and advise the king.”

Mozu’s mother spoke up for the first time since before they had sat down. “I beg your pardon, but Mozu’s...I mean, you can’t really be saying that she’s meant to serve the king himself!”

Mozu nodded. “She does. I can feel it. She’s telling the truth, mother. And she…”

_ “Poor kid. Hope she lands on her feet after we send her life upside-down.” _

“She...she’s going to take me away. Aren’t you.” Mozu’s tone conveyed that she already knew the answer to this question.

Oboro sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Hoshido loves its legends. It was decreed a long time ago that psychics are to be brought to the royal family. I always thought it was just a thing of tradition. Never thought psychics were real, much less get to meet one myself.”

“B-but I’m not Hoshidan! You can’t do this!”

“Your village resides in Hoshidan land. Whether your people consider themselves one of us or not, you’re still Hoshidan by technicality.”

“We mean no disrespect to the royal family,” her father said, “but surely you can’t just... _ take her _ from us. She’s our daughter!” His voice was calm, but Mozu could feel the anger bubbling up inside of him. “She’s done nothing to warrant this.”

“She was born. I’m sorry to say it, but that’s enough for her to be brought to Shirasagi.” Mozu looked to her mother to get a sense for what she was feeling

_ “What are we going to do? We can’t just run, we’ll never make it. Gods, tell me, what am I supposed to do?” _

and became overwhelmed with emotion, unable to stop herself from quietly crying. She felt like a fool for letting her emotions show like this, but she couldn’t help herself.

Oboro shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “...Listen. I could send Hinata and the others ahead, and they could come back with an escort. That would give you a day to say your goodbyes.” Mozu sniffed, looking up at her

_ “Put that time to good use. I don’t know when you’re gonna be able to see your folks again.” _

and feeling the urge to cry again. This time she kept her tears from falling, comforted by the sincere kindness in Oboro’s thoughts that she seemed to have a harder time expressing through words.

Mozu’s father put his head in his hands for a moment, sighing. “Just...leave us be. Let us have what few moments of peace we have left alone.” Oboro and Hinata nodded, leaving the house along with the few other soldiers. Mozu and her parents were all alone.

“Mozu,” her mother said, “you can’t really be considering this! This is nothing short of kidnapping!”

Her father sighed again. “It’s only kidnapping if it’s illegal. The royal family can get away with whatever they damn well please.”

“But how do we even know she’s one of these, these...psychics?”

“What else could it be?” Mozu’s father asked. Mozu, growing fed up with just thinking about it, abruptly stood up and stormed out of the house, grabbing her bow on the way out. She needed to think.

Mozu and Oboro made eye contact

_ “Gotta keep an eye on her, in case she runs.” _

and she moved towards the forest, hoping she could lose her in the foliage. She didn’t intend on running; she knew better than to anger the royalty of one of the most powerful nations in history. She just wanted to be alone.

Losing Oboro was easy. A quick turn here, doubling back once or twice, taking cover behind the right bushes, and the soldier’s efforts to follow became hopeless. She sighed in relief, taking a moment to scan her surroundings. There were tracks on the ground, still fresh. Elk hooves. She had no way of knowing for sure, but she felt it in her gut; her Yōkai was nearby.

Following the tracks, Mozu entered a small forest clearing, a perfect circle of uncovered sky. The sun shined down on a fresh patch of grass, and in the center was just the prey she was looking for. Mozu grabbed her bow and nocked an arrow, going through her ritual once again. Deep breath. Count to three.

The elk was looking right at Mozu. She wasn’t hidden, and it had seen her before, but it wasn’t running. He just stared at her, laying his thoughts bare. He was calm, accepting. Like he knew this was his fate, and he no longer wished to outrun it.

Mozu’s grip faltered, and her hands began to tremble. She bit down on her lip, stifling a sob as her own feelings began to overwhelm her. “Move,” she muttered. “Move. Run away. Do something.” He stayed still.

“DO SOMETHING!” Mozu screamed, but still her Yōkai stayed where he was. In that moment, she knew that she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t shoot it. Her grip relaxed, the bowstring no longer tense. She fell to her knees and let her tears flow, choking on her own sobs, hiccuping and gasping for breath. During her crying, she only looked up once. Her Yōkai was gone. Not even tracks remained.

Mozu stayed out in the forest during the night. She was no stranger to camping, even without any gear. Organizing a makeshift shelter was comforting, allowing her to take her mind off things. Setting up a fire was satisfying. Watching that spark turn into a roaring blaze never stopped being enthralling. Feeding it with kindling made her feel like she was contributing to something greater than herself.

It seemed a given to Mozu that someone would inevitably find her. They had to be looking, and her fire was a literal smoke signal for them. But no one ever did. She got a good night’s rest, making sure to stamp out the last few embers of her fire before heading back to the village.

As it turned out, the escort was far faster than Oboro predicted. There were a good dozen soldiers now positioned in the town square, and she was spotted by one almost instantly. Oboro was one of the first to arrive, quickly chewing her out for vanishing without a word. She shrugged the complaints off, instead focusing on the distinguish member of the group.

The young man had hair that seemed almost silver, tied in a ponytail. His clothes were fine, but clearly designed for battle first and fashion second. The bow on his back, lacking a bowstring, was what tipped Mozu off to who he really was. That of course, and his thoughts

_ “Don’t tell me  _ she’s  _ the one.” _

Mozu was quick to bow, but the prince seemed dissatisfied by the display. “I’m not one for honorifics like that. You can stand up.”

“Milord, I’m bowing because...because it helps me tune thoughts out if I’m not looking at someone.” Mozu nearly jumped when Takumi set his hand on her shoulder, motioning for her to stand up straight.

“Look at me.” Mozu hesitantly obeyed Takumi’s command

_ “The dragon sets with the sun, and his brother rises with the moon. Say those words.” _

and followed his instructions. “T-the dragon sets with the sun, and his brother rises with the moon.” Then, the prince did something wholly unexpected. He cracked a smile.

“Well I’ll be damned. I always thought those stories of psychics were a load of garbage.”

“Yeah, I’ve been hearing that a lot lately…” Mozu looked around. “How long do I have until I leave?”

“We’re ready to go. I’ll give you a few minutes to do anything else you need to.” Takumi’s words made Mozu realize that in her frustration, she had never even thought to say goodbye. She had no real friends she wished to talk to, but her parents must’ve been worried sick. She rushed back to her house, hanging her bow up by the door like always.

“Mom? Dad?” Mozu called out. The open doorway cast light into the front room, illuminating her parents sitting at the dining table, both just as worried as she had feared. That worry dissipated the moment they saw her, running to her and wrapping her in a tight embrace. They muttered those words people always spoke to their loved ones when they had nothing else to say, all the “oh honey”s and “it’s okay sweetie”s they could think of coming out.

“Mom, dad...I’m scared.” Mozu rested her head between her parents’ shoulders, trying to relish the familiar warmth that accompanied as much as she possibly could. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“It’s gonna be okay, Mozu. It’ll all be okay,” her father said. “Because you’re strong. You’re  _ so strong _ . Stronger than any of us. And not because of any power you were born with. You’re strong because you are the cleverest, most determined girl in the whole damn world. And I know that there’s nothing that can take you down.”

Mozu’s mother smiled. “We’ll see you again. We know we will. Even if it’s not for a long time, we’ll meet again.” Mozu could feel that her mother wasn’t lying, and she found that she believed it just as much. “We love you so much.” They hugged for what felt like an eternity yet nowhere near long enough.

Eventually, Mozu had to let go. She knew that she couldn’t just keep the Hoshidans waiting forever. She almost stepped out of the door, but her father stopped her, handing her the bow that was hanging by the door. “Take it with you. And stay safe.”

Mozu nodded. “Mhm,” she said, her voice nearly cracking. With one last longing look, she stepped out of her home and towards a great unknown that she felt was going to swallow her up. And as she approached Prince Takumi, she noticed something at the edge of the forest, watching her. Her Yōkai. She stared into his eyes, and received a message intended solely for herself.

_ “I will keep you safe.” _


	2. Chapter 2

Mozu felt like a minnow that had wound up in an unfamiliar ocean. She tried not to look at the others, hoping to avoid peering into their minds, so she instead gazed around at her constantly changing surroundings. There were towns bigger than what she could have even imagined, with people of all walks of life. She saw forts and walls tailor-made for war, and that purpose emanating from their very design scared her.

When Mozu did observe the soldiers, she got a window into their lives, which were so clearly different from her own. They had their own inside jokes that she quickly gleamed the context behind. There were certain meals that were eaten far more often than others, mostly those that only required non-perishable foods. Hinata would occasionally sneak a glance at her, and whenever he did she would try her best to avert her own eyes to avoid learning whatever thought was running through his mind. When she mentioned at one point that she was sixteen, his glancing stopped. Thank goodness for that, she thought to herself.

One particularly memorable moment came when Mozu casually looked at Oboro and got a thought

_ “Lord Takumi’s so dreamy…” _

that made her nearly burst out laughing. Oboro was quick to notice this, and the next thought

_ “Say anything about that and you’re dead.” _

was enough to make the laughter stop. Though Mozu knew that Oboro wouldn’t actually go through with her threat; she stopped because she felt bad for the soldier who was so clearly too embarrassed to admit her feelings. It wasn’t Mozu’s place to reveal them to Prince Takumi.

As it turned out, Oboro and Hinata weren’t just any random soldiers; they were personal retainers to Takumi. Their lives were devoted to his care and protection. Mozu couldn’t begin to imagine what that would be like for either party. She had never really had any friends, and even the other kids who weren’t opposed to talking to her would never have spent any considerable amount of time with her, let alone their whole life. And she had never cared about anyone enough to do the same. She loved her parents deeply, but she knew she’d have to leave the nest someday. Heck, wasn’t that exactly what she was doing right now, even if it wasn’t of her own volition?

Conversations were hard to come by. Anyone who talked to Mozu felt awkward due to her ability, and she felt awkward for not being able to avoid using it. Avoiding eyesight was helpful, but even focusing on someone’s voice enough would get their thoughts in her head. It was an all-or-nothing deal; either she knew every little emotion running through someone’s head, or she didn’t even know what expression their face was making. She was used to it by now, but that didn’t make her like it.

At one point, when food reserves were particularly low, Takumi organized a hunting party. Mozu eagerly volunteered, wanting to put her bow to good use, but she was shot down almost immediately. She was too important, after all. Gods, how she hated that word.  _ Important _ . Being important was what isolated her from her peers. Her importance got her taken from her home.

A few days after the hunt, which ended up being rather unsuccessful, they arrived at Shirasagi, the capital city of Hoshido. Thick walls surrounded it from all sides - certainly not tall enough to beat out the colossus of a wall they had passed through on the way, but it was tall enough to obscure her view of the city. She did, however, get a good look at the mountain within, Castle Shirasagi sitting atop, practically radiating in the sunlight. That was supposed to become her home. She couldn’t quite wrap her head around that fact.

The front gates to Shirasagi opened, and the group stepped into the city. There were dozens of buildings just in Mozu’s line of sight, with stands selling fruit and

_ “C’mon, buy something…” _

vegetables and meats. It was all so beautiful, like

_ “Maybe she’ll like these flowers? No, no, those won’t do.” _

something ripped straight out of a painting. It was

_ “Six times eight is fourty-eight, seven times eight is”       “What design would be best? Maybe I should””Is he really cheating on me? No, no, I’m overthinking this, I need to calm down” _

overwhelming, so overwhelming, all of these sights and thoughts and

_ “Father looks sad, I wonder”    “That looks delicious!” “Nope, not going to happen”        “Will he ever shut up? I just want some” “Don’t stare, she’ll notice me staring””Who’s that? Sure is cute…” _

_ “Is that Prince Takumi!? He’s returned from his journey!” “Look at all those soldiers, so brave…” _

so many thoughts, they were filling up her head, it felt like her sinuses were swelling and filling with fluid that had nowhere to go but up, up into her brain

_ “Gotta get the package, gotta get” “Oh I’m a failure, I’m such a failure I’ll never””Watch out for that boy, the little pickpocket’ll””No, no, that’s not right, what was the question again?””I really need to see an apothecary about my leg””Oh I can’t wait for the wedding it’ll be beautiful” _

Mozu grabbed her head with both hands, letting out a groan of pain. Her vision went blurry, but she was vaguely aware of someone asking if she was okay. Her ears felt like they were plugged with water.

_ “Something ICAN’T _ **_ishehereyet_ ** _ watch meedo waitfor meno _ **_stop_ ** _ darlingI’venever beenoverhere twosevennine thewarisitgoingtobeokay okay  _ **_okay?_ ** _ ” _

Mozu’s eyes fluttered open, and the became distinctly aware that all the voices were gone. She wasn’t in the city anymore. She was in a cozy little room, warm yet sterile, empty of decorations and only containing a small futon which she was currently resting in. Had she fallen asleep at some point? She couldn’t even remember closing her eyes.

Sitting up was something Mozu’s body was apparently very much opposed to, as it immediately gave her an intense urge to vomit. She forced it back, not wanting her first impression with whoever owned this room to be the contents of her stomach all over the floor. Letting her body win, she laid herself back down, rolling onto her side and curling up into a ball.

Mozu felt like she had closed her eyes for only a moment, but when they opened, the room had gone from day to evening, a warm orange glow coming in from the window, the curtains doing little to stop it. This time when she sat up, her stomach didn’t protest, and she eventually worked up the courage to get to her feet. She made her way to the window, gently pushing the curtains to the side so she could peer out.

The sight of Shirasagi greeted Mozu, but from her perspective it seemed like a toy city far below. She came to the realization that she wasn’t just in some random room, but Castle Shirasagi itself. She was in the same castle that housed generation upon generation of Hoshidan royalty. The thought made her want to be sick all over again.

There was a brief knock on Mozu’s door before it opened. She turned her head to look, still holding on to the curtains. There was a boy there, undoubtedly no older than she was. He had stark white hair that spilled out in all directions, pale skin, and red eyes that seemed almost ethereal. After a moment of looking at him, she saw what he was seeing: a stranger, wearing basic yet cute clothing, staring at him with an expression of hesitant curiosity, the orange light of the setting sun basking her in its glow.

_ “She’s...beautiful.” _

Mozu felt a blush creeping up her face, and she averted her gaze, taking her hand off the curtain and letting it flow back down, covering the window once again. He seemed to realize he was staring, clearing his throat. “Hello there. You must be Mozu.” She nodded. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My siblings have already seen you, but you were asleep when they were here. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Kamui, son of Sumeragi and third-in-line to the Hoshidan throne.”

Another prince. “T-terribly sorry, milord!” Mozu bowed, not exactly sure what she was even sorry for.

“Oh, please don’t bow. I’ve never been a fan of being treated like royalty. Makes me feel out of place.” Mozu hoped all of the royal family were as opposed to formalities as Takumi and Kamui. She looked up at him and realized that he was just as embarrassed as she was. “I know I already asked, but...you’re  _ her _ ? The psychic?”

“I don’t like that word,” Mozu admitted. “I always called it my needle. It feels wrong for me to think of it as anything but that.” She paused. “B-but you can call me whatever you like! I won’t be too bothered.”

“A needle, huh? Interesting name, I’ll admit.” It was obvious that Kamui was making small talk for small talk’s sake. She found it to be a refreshing change of pace. Still, she was incredibly uncomfortable. Kamui seemed to notice this, his expression softening. “I’ll, um, let you get settled. I’m sure you wish to sleep.”

In truth, Mozu wasn’t tired at all, thanks to her impromptu nap. She was hungry, but she would rather avoid eating for the night than risk more interaction. No matter how friendly the faces here were, they were still people that brought and now held her here against her will. Being able to look into their heads didn’t help much, either. “Thank you.”

Kamui nodded, turning to walk out. Before he shut the door behind him, Mozu caught a quick glimpse of an interesting thought,

_ “Maybe she can help find Corrin.” _

but he was gone before she could learn more. She looked out the window once again, watching a flock of birds in the sky as they soared over the city. The thought of flying wherever one pleased made her quite jealous.

The sun eventually set, leaving the skies dark and the moon still on the other end of the horizon, unviewable to Mozu. She laid back down in her futon, trying her best to get some sleep. It was only as she finally managed to drift off that she realized she hadn’t even asked Kamui why she had fallen unconscious. Maybe it was because deep down, she already knew the answer.  _ Too much noise. Too many people.  _ The thoughts had overwhelmed her, overloading her senses. She silently thanked the Gods that she was born in a small village. But then she remembered that the Gods were the ones who gave her the needle in the first place, and she then felt far less fond of them.

When Mozu dreamed, it was of an old childhood memory, one she was happy to see, in a vague, barely-lucid sort of way. She was eleven, out hunting. Her parents had told her she couldn’t go into the woods on her own, but she naturally disobeyed them, as any pre-teen would. She didn’t have her favorite bow yet; this one was smaller and more fragile, but still functional enough.

Mozu thought that she’d catch a bird, or maybe even a deer, but it was the growl of a bear that grabbed her attention. There was a moment of internal debate, weighing the pros and cons of pursuing a bear when she was still so small (she was still small even at sixteen, but at eleven she was practically minuscule).

Eventually, Mozu decided to ignore the bear, which was exactly when a deer walked surprisingly close to her, seemingly ignorant of her presence. It was just as focused on the bear as she was; she could sense it. But a deer was a much safer target for her. She hastily nocked an arrow and fired, grazing the animal across the neck and sending it dashing towards the source of the growl. She followed almost by instinct, as if she  _ had _ to catch that deer.

The deer seemed to have vanished into thin air, but Mozu did find the bear. Not only did she find the bear, but she also found a boy her age underneath it, unconscious. It was sniffing him, its heavy breath blowing his blonde hair back. The beast would have intimidated her in any other situation, but when she felt what it was feeling, she ignored her rising fear and nocked an arrow. The bear was  _ hungry _ .

The first arrow went straight into the bear’s hindquarters, making it roar in pain and spin around to face Mozu. She nocked her next arrow, focusing less on precision and far more at just sending the arrow in the bear’s direction. Thankfully, the second one connected as well, hitting the bear’s front leg. It tripped over, barreling right into her but failing to pounce. If it had, she would’ve certainly been gutted.

The air was knocked out of Mozu’s lungs twice - first by the impact of the bear, and then again when her back hit a thick oak tree. The bear had her pinned, and it was ready to exact its revenge for the damage she had dealt. She fumbled for her quiver, grabbing a handful of arrows and yanking them out, stabbing them into the bear’s eye. The beast roared but didn’t relent, and so she dug them in deeper, feeling its uninjured paw pushing her hard against the tree until she felt like her ribs were going to crack. Then, all at once, it went silent, slumping down on top of her.

There was a warm, wet sensation running down Mozu’s chest, which she would later find out was a thick stream of blood created by a gash the bear had left in her chest. In her adrenaline-fueled daze, she didn’t even register the pain. She attempted to push the bear off of her with no luck. “HEY!” She looked at the boy, still asleep. “HEY, WAKE UP!”

Just when Mozu began to worry that the boy was going to be out for a while, he began to move, groaning in pain as he rubbed his head. “What...what happened…” He sat up and looked at Mozu, who must’ve been quite a sight to behold, stuck against a tree and under a dead bear.

Mozu got the boy to go get help, and he case back with a few village men, including her father. Once the bear was off of her, he picked her up and carried her home, despite her protests. However, the panic in his mind

_ “Oh Gods please tell me she isn’t hurt she’s bleeding tell me she’ll be okay” _

kept her complaining to a minimum. She set a hand on his cheek, giggling somewhat deliriously. “I’m fine, dad.” He wasn’t convinced of this until he had the village healer closing up her chest wound with a staff.

The boy Mozu had saved only talked to her once more, and it was to give his thanks. He never looked her in the eyes, and stayed away from her like the other kids after that, but for that brief moment, he  _ wanted _ to talk to her. That made her happier than even taking down the bear did. And, as it turned out, Mozu was quite the fan of bear meat.

It was only when Mozu woke up that she realized something for the first time, something that took her five long years to realize. That deer that she almost bagged wasn’t just any old deer, but an elk. How did she not notice that the first time? And that elk, the one she left that scar on, the scar that ran across the side of its neck, was undoubtedly her Yōkai. That was the first time she had ever seen it. Somehow, she  _ knew  _ she had never seen that elk before that day. It led her to that bear, to that boy.

And suddenly Mozu felt very afraid, like she had stumbled upon something that wasn’t meant to be seen by someone like her, a human, a mortal. And that thing she had stumbled upon, for whatever reason, kept coming to visit her. It had  _ spoken _ to her the last time she saw it. Its thoughts were clear, understandable, voiced in her native tongue. She wondered just how accurate her name for the elk really was.

Mozu, tired of being stuck in her barren room, tried the door, noting how Kamui had slid it open, rather than pushing or pulling. She supposed that sliding doors must be more common in Hoshido, as opposed to traditional ones. With a bit of awkwardness, she slid the door open only to find herself facing a stern-looking guard.

He spoke, “Ah, you’re awake. Please stay in here for the time being. Someone will be here to see you soon.” With that, he slid the door shut, almost hitting Mozu’s face in the process. Realizing she wasn’t getting out any time soon, she resigned herself to looking out the window once again, silently admiring the city.

The door eventually slid open once again, Oboro stepping inside. “Hey again. Alright, come get a move on. You’re gonna meet some pretty important people today, and it’s my job to make sure you don’t look and smell like you were raised by wolves.”

“Thanks for the compliment…” Mozu muttered, heading to the retainer. At this point, she’d take any excuse to walk around. “But I don’t get why you’re the one in charge of this.”

Oboro looked downright insulted. “I’ll have you know that I am the best tailor this side of the Bottomless Canyon! In fact, I measured you while you were asleep, and I’m nearly done with an outfit for you. But first, we gotta get you cleaned up!”

“Cleaned up?” Mozu asked, a bit worried about the implications of that phrase. Fortunately for her, all that consisted of was a bath (Oboro insisted on making sure she got every inch clean, much to Mozu’s embarrassment) and some makeup to make her look “more appealing”. She hated all of it, but it could’ve been far worse. She was expecting some sort of painful skin treatment, like she had read about in a book once.

The outfit Oboro had made for Mozu was undeniably beautiful; even with her poor sense of fashion and lack of noble sensibilities, Mozu could recognize that. It was a deep, dark blue, lines with white flower designs. The only problem was that she had no idea how to put the thing on. Oboro called it a “kimono,” while Mozu called it a nightmare. So much tying and cloth and strange sensations of unfamiliar fabric hanging from her arms and rubbing against her skin. Apparently having clothes that were far too big was a trend in Hoshido. Oboro was a big help in getting it on, though she lamenting the whole way through about how awful it was that Mozu hadn’t worn one.

Mozu’s mind kept flashing back to that boy who talked to her yesterday. He was Takumi’s brother, but they certainly looked nothing alike. And while Takumi was down to earth, he was still a member of royalty, and that permeated through his personality. But Kamui seemed like he could genuinely just be a regular person. He seemed...nice, honestly. Though catching his initial thought about her, calling her beautiful, made her want to stop thinking about him.

Once Mozu was all dressed up, Oboro tied her hair up, letting it loop back to the top of her head. When she was given a mirror to examine herself with, she couldn’t deny that she loved the way she looked, even if it was a far cry from her usual appearance. “You’ll do great,” Oboro said with her confident smile. “The royal family are a buncha softies, anyways. They’ll love you! Just avoid any sass. Most of them have some sort of inferiority complex.”

“I’ve never been particularly sassy…” Mozu said softly, feeling only more worried by the prospect of accidentally angering one of them by saying something they would be offended by.

“Then you have nothing to worry about! Just tell them what they want to hear. Unless there’s no clear answer, then say what you think is best. But if you can’t decide, just try to make your best guess. And if that doesn’t work-“ Oboro stopped

_ “I think I’m only scaring her.” _

and changed her tune. “What I’m trying to say, is...knock ‘em dead, okay? I know you will.” She set a reassuring hand on Mozu’s shoulder, which made the village girl feel better for the first time all day.

The amount of guards passed on the way to the throne room seemed like more people than there were in Mozu’s village, though maybe she was just psyching herself out. She wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case. How many were looking at her? How many thought of her as a threat? She didn’t dare look at them to find out.

Mozu was led to a gigantic pair of doors, seemingly tailor-made to impose. Each door was opened by a separate guard, revealing an ornate, bright throne room that looked as if it was ripped straight out of a fairy tale. Golden lines ran across the ceiling, wrapping around a skylight that cast sunlight down onto a pure white throne, warm red banners draping down as its only decoration.

Prince Takumi was closest, leaning against a wall and doing his best to look as if he didn’t care

_ “Here for a day and they’re already throwing a damn parade.” _

even though it was clear that he did. She caught Corrin looking at her in that funny way he did back when they first met

_ “Wow, Oboro really did her best work here.” _

with equally strange thoughts to accompany it. She wasn’t sure if she liked or hated the way he thought of her.

“Greetings.” Mozu’s attention was drawn toward the woman standing next to the throne, older than the rest of them but still remarkably beautiful. “I am Queen Mikoto. I have heard much about you, Mozu, as well as your gift.”

Mozu almost asked Queen Mikoto not to call it a gift, but bit her tongue. She bowed briefly. “Thank you, m-my Queen.” Of course, she didn’t consider Mikoto to be any queen of hers, seeing how she’d never even heard of the woman until a few days ago, but she decided to just kiss up to her.

“I hear you have already met Takumi and Kamui. This,” Mikoto motioned to a young girl with bright pink hair that seemed to shrink just from being mentioned, “is my daughter Sakura.”

“G-greetings!” Sakura declared,

_ “Oh gods she can read my mind is she reading my mind right now? Oh no oh no I don’t like this I wanna leave please mother let me leave” _

fluttery as a moth and restless as a hummingbird, mixed with a heavy dose of anxiety that Mozu could certainly sympathize with.

Mikoto looked to the other girl in the room. “This is Hinoka, my eldest daughter.” The girl was tall and thin, with short red hair and a fierce look in her eye. She gave a greeting nod, smiling.

_ “I know a fighter when I see one, and she’s definitely a fighter. I’ll have to ask her to spar sometime.” _

“And finally, we have my eldest son, Ryoma.” Mozu hadn’t even realized the man was there until Mikoto pointed him out. His armor looked as if it belonged on a statue, not a prince. He cast an intimidating presence, standing tall and proud.

“Welcome,” Ryoma said.

_ “A psychic, just as the legends claim...she seems nice. I wonder how powerful her ability is?” _

Mozu didn’t like being watched by Ryoma. He was scanning her, observing her every little movement. Her eyes darted back to Mikoto, who was smiling back at her. Oddly enough, Mozu couldn’t get an exact gasp of her thoughts, just a few scattered emotions. “We hope that you will feel comfortable here. This is your home, now.” Hearing that hurt Mozu far more than she knew was intended. It was meant to be a comforting statement, but all it did was remind her of the home she was forced to leave behind. She suddenly wanted to go back to her quiet room.

“I-if I may…” Mozu began, her voice quivering, “What exactly are my duties here?”

“Providing guidance and wisdom to the royal family. Your ability provides you insight that no one else can hope to obtain, and sharing it with us to assist in Hoshido’s prosperity is key. Of course, you will be educated in all aspects necessary to this task. Hoshidan history, politics, advanced mathematics, literature, culture, and conventional warfare, to name a few.”

“I see. And...my parents? Will I get to see them again?” Mozu sensed disappointment in Mikoto.

“Commoners are not allowed in Castle Shirasagi, save for very rare occasions, such as yourself. However, I will see if I can arrange a meeting between you and your family.” It wasn’t much - nearly nothing, in fact. But it was a start, a glimmer of hope for Mozu to hold on to. Still, it reminded her that despite her power, she was not supposed to be here. She was not welcome here. She would always be an outsider. Fine by her, she supposed.

Kamui spoke, “Mother? What about

_ “Corrin” _

Corrin?” His question was met with a stern expression from his mother. It must’ve been a touchy subject.

“I have already told you, Kamui, that we will discuss this at a later date,” Mikoto said. Kamui tried to speak again. “Kamui. I have given you my answer. I will hear no more of it.” She looked at Mozu. “You may be excused back to your room.”

This meeting was over. The room felt hostile now, its warmth polarizing rather than inviting. It only furthered Mozu’s understanding that she  _ did not belong here _ . She bowed once more, stepping out of the throne room and letting Oboro, who was waiting outside, escort her back to her room. They exchanged no words.

Letting herself collapse onto her futon, Mozu was ready to sleep, despite the fact that it couldn’t have been later than noon. There wasn’t much else to do in the meantime. She knew she’d be woken up when they needed her. The barren room was intentionally so; she realized that now. It was to remind her that she belonged to the royal family now, and that she was only important when they deemed it so. Until then, all she needed was food and a bed. She was a tool for their use, and nothing more.

But the way Kamui looked at her, like she was a real person and not simply some mystical “other,” confused her. Why did he see her differently? She recalled the first thought he had upon looking at her. It wasn’t about her needle, or what use she could be. It was about how beautiful she was. Even from the beginning, he saw her as a person. She supposed that if he could see her that way, and if Oboro could at least treat her that way, then maybe she didn’t have to feel like the royal family’s tool. She could keep feeling like the person she knew she was.


End file.
